


Nesting

by Luthorchickv2



Series: Nesting [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dany becomes Queen, Dany doesn’t go mad, Ghost is a good bro, Happy Ending, Jon gets to be happy, Jon never sleeps with Dany, M/M, Tormund pines like a tree, au from the middle of 8.4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 06:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19043416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthorchickv2/pseuds/Luthorchickv2
Summary: Tormund leads his people north, all the while yearning for Jon.“Tormund watches Jon ride away with the Dragon Queen and puts aside the ache he feels inside at being parted from him. Jon was never going to be his and Tormund has made his peace with that. Once the kneelers had seen his little crow’s worth he’d never be free again.”





	Nesting

**Author's Note:**

> This becomes an alternate universe from the middle of 8.4, though Edd Tollett, and both Mormont’s don’t die in 8.3. 
> 
> I started this before the series finale aired and it reflects that. Dany doesn’t go mad. 
> 
> Kudos and Comments are treasured.

Tormund watches Jon ride away with the Dragon Queen and puts aside the ache he feels inside at being parted from him. Jon was never going to be his and Tormund has made his peace with that. Once the kneelers had seen his little crow’s worth he’d never be free again.

The aftermath of the battle against the dead was brutal, even for someone as versed in killing and fighting as Tormund. They burn the dead and Tormund openly weeps over just how many people of his he has lost over the course of the Night King’s march south. He finds the corpse of his late wife’s father who had been lost at Hardhome and has to walk away. 

They celebrate after, with lots of alcohol and the settling of titles from the Queen. Jon Snow, rather than being a bastard Stark is actually half wolf/half dragon and the Queen’s nephew. The Queen makes him the heir to her throne and Prince of Dragonstone. The blacksmith, Gendry, is apparently the bastard son of the usurper king, and is gifted a castle and lordship for his services to the living. The little lady of Bear Island, who took down a wight giant and had somehow survived by being crushed underneath, makes peace with the one who came with the Queen. They agree that the Lady will stay Lady of Bear Island and that Jorah can call himself Mormont openly once more and use Lord as a courtesy title. The kneelers are so needlessly complicated, Tormund thinks, all titles and kneeling and bullshit. They drink and Tormund lets himself touch Jon freely, something to remember in the nights to come. He sees the big woman leave and the pretty knight follow her and is glad someone is going to be happy. 

Jon stays long enough to mediate a temporary treaty between the freefolk, represented by Tormund, and Lady Stark, which officially deeds lands just south of the wall to any freefolk willing settle, and free passage across the wall, in exchange for trading rights and some portion of men to serve at the Wall on a rotating basis. No one is quite sure what to do about the gaping hole in the wall by Eastwatch and have set that problem aside for the moment. They agree to come together again once the southern issue is settled to properly sort it out. Tormund hugs Jon close and has to force himself to let go. When had this little crow become vital to his happiness?

And then they leave, to tackle the lioness in the south. Jon, regal and so handsome it hurts to look at him, riding next to the Dragon Queen. She would be stupid if she didn’t marry him, Tormund thinks, and reminds himself that Jon was never his. 

Tormund sets aside his grief and leads his people north. There are shocking few left, barely 1000, and mostly women and children. Recovery is going to be a challenge but the freefolk had existed for thousands of years, hunted by the White Walkers and now, would exist for thousands more. Tormund hugs his daughters every time he can and keeps them in sight until they start rolling their eyes at him. Ghost is his constant companion, roaming during the day but curling up over Tormund at night. In the blackest part of the night, he scratches between Ghost’s ears and lets himself yearn for Jon. He wonders how the Dragon Queen is getting along down south and hopes Jon doesn’t forget what it is like to breathe the cold clean northern air. 

They travel with the reminder of the Night’s Watch, and assorted displaced northerners up to Castle Black. He and Edd, once the bitterest of enemies now share stories of those who were lost on both sides. He catches Edd watching him, sometimes, a knowing look on his face and ignores it. 

The road is empty of people and a somber quiet hangs over everything, like the very land is in mourning. Winter continues to cling though Tormund likes to think that it is a little less brutal now that the Night King is gone. 

They give Dreadfort and Last Hearth a wide berth but can’t avoid the little settlements long the road. Traces of the army of the dead are everywhere, blood stains, torn clothing, random bones and destroyed dwellings. The one bright spot is the lack of whole corpses, the dead having taken the dead with them. It’s still a haunting site, particularly passing a former burial ground with gaping holes where the long dead had clawed their way out. Tormund isn’t sure how to settle this land now, this land that now feels like a tomb. 

They recieve a raven from Winterfell almost as soon as they walk into Castle Black. The Dragon Queen has taken King’s Landing and the Kingslayer can now be called the Queenslayer as well. Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell, is now Warden of the North. Jon will be returning in a few months time with a host of the captured enemy soldiers and bannermen to help with rebuilding The north. 

Tormund feels something in him relax. Jon survived, Jon is safe. Jon is returning north, even if only for a short time. 

Castle Black had been mostly left alone by the dead, just a emptied burial ground and Edd and Tormund curse that they didn’t think to burn it when they could have. The inside is intact, the dead not bothering since no one was there. 

Now that they are free of the fighting, the free folk can take stock of what’s left and decide what comes next. Tormund has found that he has lost his desire to wander. He’s happy to be north but he’s also tired. The remaining elders decide that someone needs to represent the free folk’s interest in the south. Tormund is unanimously elected. Everyone agrees Hardhome is to be avoided but does need to be dealt with at some point. Whole clans have been decimated, including many who had inhabited the Haunted Forest.There are no traces of the freefolk who dwelt in caves, and the remaining Ice-River clans and those from the Frozen Shore have banded together and want to return to the Frozen Shore.The few reminding Thenns cleave to the last of the Hornfoots and wish to go back to their valley. Tormund sends both new clans north with an agreement that they will each send a representative south every other season to share information. A few families return to the Haunted Forest. A majority of the clans fall into loose groups south of The Wall clustering around and in abandoned Night’s Watch castles. He, his family and what’s left of his clan settle in and around Castle Black on either side of the Wall. This suits him. He has seen enough battle for several lifetimes and is content, mostly, to sit and grow fat and wait for his daughters to give him grandchildren. His eldest, Mala, has been eyeing one of the smiths that had come up with them from the south. 

Except his life of leisure is not to be. Edd convinces him to help train up the Night’s Watch in combat and and survival skills. He alternates between leading parties north for hunting and trapping, as well as lessons on what plants are safe to eat and won’t make you shit your pants. 

Far from being the desolate wasteland that he expected, the Forest has been slowly creeping back to life. It seems the Night King didn’t slaughter everything. Herds of deer and elk move across the icy plains in greater numbers then seen in years. Rabbits and other burrowing creatures are plentiful and they even come across traces of direwolves aside from Ghost, who has been slipping away into the forest during the day with regularity, though he always returns to curl up with Tormund at night. It gives Tormund a small amount of hope that maybe pockets of his people had survived beyond The Wall. 

A month or so after they have settled, news once more comes from the south. The Queen has announced her intent to wed a man of the north, to further tie the two together. Tormund doesn’t stay to hear the rest of the message. A man of the north? It had to be Jon. He spends the rest of the day in the forest hunting with Ghost. 

Not long after, the first of the Lannister soldiers arrives at Castle Black to help staff the Night’s Watch and rebuild. Jon isn’t with them. They are lead, instead, by Davos, who stays just long enough to entrust the troops to Tormund and Edd. . 

Before Tormund knows it, six months have passed since he has seen Jon and he’s learned to live with the ache under his ribs. Mala steals the smith, Tavis, away and they reappear a week later, both grinning from ear to ear. He gives them his blessing whole heartedly and holds a feast in their honor. Tavis is young but strong and stares at Mala as if she were the gods on land and what father could want more than that?

Late that night, curled against Ghost, he let himself imagine taking Jon for a husband. How he would steal away into Jon’s quarters, bind him and carry him beyond the wall to the great weirwood. How they would stand before it and ask for the gods blessing, how he would take Jon beneath the branches on a bed of the softest furs that can be found.

But that way lies madness and after that one self indulgent night, Tormund shoves all thoughts of Jon away and throws himself into training the new recruits, all used to fighting in warmer climates. He mixes people around until he has units that are comprised of free folk, southern soldiers and northerners and soon has them all working together and fighting as one. The war against the dead had taught him to be adaptable and flexible and its with that in mind that he trains. 

One night he returns to Castle Black having taken a group of soldiers on a raid north to find all the kneelers stupid drunk. 

“What’s all this?” He asks Edd, gruffly. 

Edd is still mostly sober and hands a tankard to Tormund. 

“The Queen is wed. Long Live the Queen and Prince Consort of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Tormund drinks deeply and grabs Ghost and heads across The Wall again. He’ll sleep rough tonight. 

Before he realizes it has been a year since the Battle of Winterfell. They hold a vigil for all those who were lost and Tormund cries openly mourning his people. The hold a feast and tell stories of the lost, so that they may never be forgotten. A bard comes from Winterfell, with songs composed about the battle. Tormund is shocked to hear his own deeds sung about in a song titled “Free Fire” but his favorite is called the Dragon Prince, which recounts Jon’s heroism. 

He’s tanning an elk hide a couple days later when the sky darkens and people start screaming. For a moment he is panicked that the Night King has returned. He drops the hide and crouches, sword drawn, ready to defend.

It’s not the Night King, or walkers, just a fucking stupid little crow, landing his fucking giant dragon right next to the settlement. 

Tormund wants to throttle him, kiss him, but also throttle him. The screams stop as Jon slides off, presses his head to the dragon’s who proceeds to wind into a ball and nap. 

Jon looks good. There is a looseness to him that Tormund has never seen before, a lightness. He’s clad in red and black leather, finer than anything Tormund has seen. The lines in his face have eased and his hair is longer than Tormund has ever seen it. He desperately wants to release it from its clasp and run his hands through it. Clearly married life and being Prince Consort agrees with him. Tormund hangs back for once in his life and watches Jon greet Edd and hug Ghost. He should be scooping his little crow up in his arms but he’s afraid if he does he’ll never let Jon go again. 

He takes a breath, pastes a smile on his face and exclaims “King Crow! So you’ve returned to the North!” as he walks over, keeping his distance. 

Jon frowns, slightly, steps closer to Tormund and wraps his arms around him. 

“Tormund, I’ve missed you.” Jon says, and there is something there, something Tormund doesn’t quite understand. 

Tormund inhales his scent and lets himself linger for a moment before extracting himself and grabbing Jon’s arm. “Come, a visit from King Crow requires celebration! Tell us your tales of triumph in the south.”

Jon looks puzzled but follows Tormund into what has become a general gathering place. 

Tormund doesn’t notice that no one follows them and that Edd is grinning, watching them. 

“How long are you staying for?” He asks as he hands Jon a tankard of ale. It’s a new recipe, combining practices of the north and south and Tormund is particularly proud of it. 

Jon places the tankard on the table without drinking it. “Tormund? Didn’t you get my raven? I’m staying in the North.”

Tormund is confused. “But won’t that upset your wife?”

“My wife? Tormund, are you well?” Jon tilts his head, looking a little like Ghost in his confusion.

Tormund exhales loudly. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation. 

“You wife, the Dragon Queen, the one who brought the dragon you got here on.”

Jon abruptly laughs and Tormund is ready to storm out. Fuck pretty little crows and fuck the south. 

Jon grabs unto Tormund’s arm. “No, don’t leave, I’m sorry. It’s just, I didn’t marry Daenerys. I’m not sure why you think I did. She married Jorah Mormont.”

What? Tormund freezes and thinks back. He realizes that he never actually heard that Jon had been the one married. He feels foolish and angry and just a little bit hopeful. 

“I heard she had married. I just assumed that it was to you.” He finally spits out. 

“I can see that but why?” Jon steps a little closer. Tormund backs up a few steps until the back of his knees run into a bench. 

“Because you are brave and honest and righteous and caring and passionate and honorable and so pretty it hurts to look at you. Jon, how could anyone not choose you?” Tormund states, words slipping out, honest and true. Everything he has been feeling since Jon rode away from him. 

Jon smiles softly, puts a hand to Tormund's chest and pushes lightly until Tormund sinks down onto the bench behind him. 

“There. Now I can do this, you giant.” Jon places both hands on either side of Tormund’s face and leans down to press his lips to Tormund’s. 

Tormund has wanted this for so long he can barely believe it is happening. Jon presses closer and in a rush Tormund wraps his arms around him and tugs until Jon is in his lap, knees on either side of Tormund's legs. Jon’s lips are soft and chapped from the flight and Tormund wants nothing more than to get lost in him. Time passes as they kiss, wrapped in each other. Tormund gives into temptation and runs a hand over Jon’s hair and pops the clasp. Dark curls spill around them and Jon laughs. He pulls back and Tormund has never seen anything as beautiful as Jon fucking Snow, splayed on his lap, grinning with slightly swollen lips, faint red marks on his chin from Tormund’s beard, the flicker of candles over his skin. 

“I have wanted that so long, I don’t remember not.” Jon whispers. 

“I thought you could never be mine.” Tormund breaths and pauses. He doesn’t want to assume. “You can be?” He asks.

Jon cradles Tormund’s cheek. “Not just can but want, need to be. I wanted to write you so many times, ask you to come rescue me from the south. It was draining me, the heat, the sun, the court, the stupid rules and I was miserable. Aunt Dany could see it and we negotiated. I would stay to see her married and with child and then I could abdicate as heir and return north. I sent a raven that I guess you never got.”

Tormund shook his head. “I would have come for you, maybe I should have.”

Jon leans his forehead against Tormund’s and Tormund clutches him close. 

“I’m here now. I have to go back occasionally but Rhaegal makes it an easy trip.” 

“The beast is staying?” Tormund is slightly horrified. He’s grateful to the dragons for helping against the dead but he has a healthy respect for their teeth, and claws, and fire. 

Jon smacks his shoulder. “She is. She and I have bonded. And she’s not a beast. She’s intelligent, sort of.”

“I guess I’ll have to get use to her, then.” Tormund sighs, teasingly. He tugs Jon in for another kiss. His heart is full and he’s so happy he could shout. 

“I’m going to steal you away, my pretty crow, and bind you to me in the ways of my people and then again in the way of yours. Tie you to the north so they can never have you again.” Tormund whispers against Jon’s lips.

Jon flushes and presses closer to Tormund. “Who says you get to do the stealing?” 

Tormund smirks and stands, carrying Jon. He wants to find his bed, now. He heads to the back entrance to avoid being seen. 

“You’ve made your point.” Jon gasps. “But don’t think you’ll get your way about everything. I am a Stark and a Targaryen and am stubborn as fuck.”

Tormund grins, he can’t wait.


End file.
